


Freezing

by taylor_tut



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hypothermia, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 19:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A commission fic for a friend on tumblr! Wes is dangerously close to freezing when he finally stumbles upon the encampment and Wilson helps to get him warm. Terrible title.





	Freezing

Wes desperately hugged his arms a little tighter around his body in an attempt to stop shivering as another cold gust of wind blew around him. He’d been out for far too long, he knew, and though he’d expected to find a tam o shelter well before the sun had set, that plan hadn’t worked out, and now he was left with no choice but to keep trudging forward toward the encampment. 

His hands felt stiff and painful, and he wished desperately that he’d brought a hat or a thicker sweater before leaving. He just hadn't planned on being out so long. Honestly, he’d thought he’d gotten lucky, since he’d avoided seeing any monsters for the first time in a long time (though perhaps that was because Willow was nearby, as evidenced by the piles of charred ash he kept stumbling upon), and he’d found enough food to keep himself satiated for another night and even to put a little bit in his pockets for later. However, his luck had changed when the sun had set and the frigid cold had set in. 

How long had he been walking? It felt like ages. He could barely see where he was going anymore in the dark. Panic was beginning to set in at the thought that he might not find shelter tonight, and he knew that the longer he waited, the slower he was going. God, he was tired. Where was Willow with her fires when you needed her?

He needed to sit. The cold air was hard to breathe, making his lungs ache and his chest feel tight as he pushed forward. Wes sat down heavily on a tree stump to catch his breath and found that he had to fight to keep his eyes open and focused on the trail ahead of him. Maybe he could get away with a quick nap here on the tree stump, just to shut his eyes for a moment…

No. He knew he wasn’t supposed to sleep when he was this cold, that if he let himself drift off without finding shelter, he’d probably not wake up. The frost was a siren, lulling him into a false sense of security, but he had to resist and press on. Wes dragged himself up from the stump and wavered slightly, dizzily, before spinning in nearly comical circles trying to remember which part of the forest he’d just come from and which he was headed toward.

Just when he was really starting to get desperate, he saw what he was looking for: the faint light of a fire from the encampment. Unable to find the energy to show his excitement, he settled for a shaky smile to himself and stumbled forward with renewed vigor. 

 

Wilson was sitting by the fire after a long, hard day and trying to slow his constantly-racing thoughts of how to survive better and longer and less miserably. His hands were warm, finally, as they hadn’t been all day—a beard only protected a guy so much—and he was whittling a stick down to nothing. Having something arbitrary to do sometimes helped him to focus a little better. 

His attention was brought, suddenly, to a rustling noise from the forest. He felt adrenaline rush hot through his veins and he raised the sharpened stick defensively. A monster? No, it would be way too risky for one to come this close to the encampment. They usually dwelled in the dark of night, lurking behind trees and rocks to attack and eat unlucky wanderers. What, then?

With his weapon still drawn, Wilson stood up when the rustling noise from the bushes stopped and started up again, hoping that he could creep up silently enough to have a fighting chance to fend off—

Wes, who stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing into his arms, forcing him to drop the stick to the ground and catch him by the arms. 

“Wes?” he asked, startled. 

Wes blinked up at him and shivered, trying and failing to get his feet under him a little more. Wilson hadn’t seen him in a while, not since yesterday morning at least, and it was rare for any of them to be walking around the forest this late if they didn’t have to be. He shivered sharply and Wilson felt his grip on his friend tighten instinctively.

“Let’s get you over to the fire,” he suggested. 

Wes nodded emphatically, looking as if he hadn’t heard a better idea in his life. It wasn’t easy to wrestle him over to the fire with his legs threatening to buckle beneath him at every step, but Wilson managed to get him there slowly but surely. He pushed the small log he’d been sitting upon as close to the flames as he could manage without threatening to set the guy on fire with a stray ember and sat him down. 

“Have you been out since this morning?” he asked, and Wes nodded slowly, like it took him a minute to even process the question. “Longer than that?” he asked, and Wes nodded again. 

Wilson grimaced. That wasn’t good. Cold like this could take a life, and from the looks of Wes, he’d been pretty close to it. If he hadn’t found the encampment when he did…

Well. He didn’t have to think about that. 

Instead, he went inside the shelter and rustled around until he found a sweater. He wasn’t sure who it belonged to and he didn’t much care. He wished there were more lying around, but this one would have to do. 

When he came back outside, Wes was huddled over his knees, curled tightly into an upright little ball and leaning in almost dangerously to the fire. 

“You’ll catch your hair on fire,” Wilson called, startling Wes out of his thoughts, “and believe me, that isn’t fun. I speak from experience.” 

He handed the sweater to Wes, watched him fumble it with clumsy, frozen hands, then sighed and reached out to take it back, unfolding it and helping him to pull it over his head. His shivering had picked up, which was a good thing, as it meant that his body was starting to wake up a bit and he was probably out of the woods, both literally and figuratively, but he still couldn’t shake the worry from his mind. Wes was still pale, and although he was  _ always _ pale, this was different, more ominous. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, waiting for Wes’ glazed eyes to focus on him. Wes nodded, but it was so sluggish that it was unconvincing. “Sure,” he agreed. “We’ll go with that.” 

A silence fell over them, not comfortable like silences with Wes usually were, but filled with anxiety. Wes was nothing if not ever-perceptive, but right now, he was drifting. 

“Please stay awake,” Wilson instructed. Wes’ eyes snapped up like he’d been scolded and he nodded as if he hadn’t been falling asleep in the first place. “You need to warm up before you can sleep.” 

Wes nodded. Wilson knew that he knew that, but it was easier said than done. Wes was still shivering furiously, disconcertingly. 

“Can I sit next to you?” Wilson asked. Though he looked confused, Wes nodded and scooted over a little on the log. There was barely enough room on the log for the both of them, but if they pressed tightly together, Wilson could make it work.

As soon as their bodies were touching, Wilson frowned, feeling his own body heat already being leeched from him. That was the point, of course, but the temperature difference was upsetting. 

“You’re really freezing,” he fretted. Wes nodded. “I wish we had more to get you warm…” 

What he wouldn’t give for a nice warm blanket or a hot bath. 

Wes shrugged, unwilling to allow himself to think about a more comfortable life than the one they all knew they were forced to live. 

“Yes, I know that this is the best we can do for now,” Wilson said. He always seemed able to read his mind that way. Wes liked that about him. No one ever pressed him to speak; they knew that it wasn’t going to do any good. However, because of that, it was rare that anyone ever made an effort to understand him. Wilson was different. Perhaps it was his scientific brain that always needed answers; perhaps it was his compassion; perhaps it was just the camaraderie that came with trying to remain alive with a group of people when everything else was working against them. Whatever fueled it, all Wes knew was that he was grateful for it. 

His whole life, no one had understood him. His childhood trauma, his gender identity, his inability to speak. Because of that, it didn’t seem to matter that he didn’t talk. What was the point if no one was going to get it, anyway? 

All he had with Wilson was this. These shared experiences, these quiet moments, these struggles that bound them. Wilson could look at him and know what he needed. Wilson knew what he needed and cared to try to provide it. It was the healthiest relationship he’d had in his life, the most stability he could ask for when everything always seemed like a slippery slope into death and destruction. 

“Wes,” Wilson called, drawing him once more out of the spiral of his thoughts. “Are you with me?”

Wes nodded and felt Wilson relax against him. 

“Good,” he sighed, “good. I’m glad. Are you feeling any warmer?” 

Now that he thought about it, he did feel a little better. He wiggled his toes inside his shoes, wiggled his no-longer-numb fingers in front of his face. Wilson chuckled slightly. 

“I’m glad for that,” he murmured. Then, he stilled once more, feeling stuff  “If you’d like me to move, I will.” 

Wes thought about that for a moment, thinking hard about whether his usual aversion to this much contact was worth giving up the heat source that was proving even better than the fire, and he came to the conclusion that it was not. 

He shook his head, paused, shrugged. Again, Wilson chuckled a little. 

“No, I’m fine with it,” he reassured. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Wes nuzzled a little closer in case he needed more proof, and Wilson wrapped his arms more firmly around him. 

“You’re a little warmer,” he noted, pleased. “I was worried. You were practically frozen when you got here. I’m glad to see you’re recovering.” 

Wes sighed contentedly. The warmth always came quickly once he got near a fire, but he knew that it would be a while before he felt himself again after such a close call. The cold always made his joints stiff and his muscles would get sore from shivering. 

A thought occurred to him that he wasn’t sure whether or not Wilson had eaten yet, something he would have thought about sooner had he been in his right mind upon greeting him. He reached into his pocket and found the small number of berries he’d stowed away for later, shoving it clumsily at Wilson, who blinked at it owlishly. 

“You… want me to have these?” he asked. Wes nodded, but Wilson shook his head. “They’re yours,” he refused. “I’m not hungry, anyway.” A loud grumble of his stomach betrayed him at exactly the right moment and he flushed pink. Wes, now with iron-clad conviction, shoved the berries at him again, more forcefully this time. Wilson took a few and popped him in his mouth, then closed Wes’ fist and gently pushed it away. “Keep the rest. We’ll have breakfast tomorrow, okay? I think I have enough ingredients to make waffles.” 

Wes smiled at the thought and let his eyes drift shut, this time happily rather than with the anxiety of freezing, knowing that he was exactly where he was safest and with the one person he could trust more than anyone else in the world. 


End file.
